The music was still playing when the doors swung open—and I knew, with a sick kind of certainty, he wasn’t coming. My veil felt heavier than stone. Whispers sliced through the chapel. “Where’s the groom?” someone hissed. I stood there, abandoned at my own wedding… until my millionaire boss stepped beside me, eyes cold, jaw set. He leaned in and murmured, “Pretend I’m the groom.” Before I could breathe, he took my hand, raised it for everyone to see—and said something into the microphone that made my blood turn to ice. And that was only the beginning…
The music was still playing when the doors swung open—and I knew, with a sick kind of certainty, he wasn’t coming. My veil felt heavier than stone. The chapel in Charleston glittered with candles and white roses, but my stomach was a knot of cold wire. “Where’s the groom?” someone hissed from the second row….